First Contact
by Chris7221
Summary: Twenty years after the Abydos mission, Commander Michaela Nicholson leads her team through the Stargate to a mysterious, previously unexplored sector of the galaxy. Soon, they will discover a new race, and the fragile peace of the galaxy will end. A non-SGD version of SGD::Contact.


Loosely based on Stargate Infinity, though I've never actually watched any of it. It doesn't share any characters with SGI, but see below.

This was originally written as SGD::Contact. When I wrote it, I realized that it barely shared any connections with the fic that preceded it. I figured it wouldn't be that hard to rework it into a normal Stargate piece. I don't think the reworking is perfect, but it went smoother than I thought it would.

Will I continue this? Likely not, but we'll see.

* * *

 _The year is 2016. Though most of the world does not know it, Earth has been using the Stargate to travel to distant worlds for twenty years._

 _The System Lords have been defeated, and the remaining Goa'uld keep to themselves. The Lucian Alliance has fractured, leaving only small groups of pirates and criminals who fight among themselves more than anything else. The Replicator scourge is long gone and its memory rapidly fading. Atlantis has returned to the Pegasus Galaxy, where another uneasy peace has been made with the Wraith._

 _But in a tense galaxy, peace can never last..._

 **First Contact**

 _Stargate Command_

Four figures in mottled green armour stood impatiently off to one side of the gateroom, watching as a supply shipment was moved through the gate. The gateroom- officially termed the Embarkation Room- had been expanded in recent years, and it was now large enough to accommodate full-sized containers, vehicles, and Puddle Jumpers. Large blast doors lead to staging areas and garages.

"I can't believe we got bumped for a supply shipment," Master Sergeant Jason Zimmerman said to the woman beside him. He motioned to the intermodal containers rolling through the Stargate. "I mean, with all due respect, ma'am, we're a big important exploration mission, and we're bumped for a goddamn _supply shipment_."

"The Alpha Site blew a generator, it can't be helped," Lieutenant Commander Michaela Nicholson, the leader of SG-11, reminded him. She bounced her helmet in her hands once before putting it on, the hardseals locking together with an audible hiss. "Besides, we've waited this long, it can wait a bit longer."

Zimmerman turned to the only civilian and physically smallest member of their team. "Doctor Simpson, why don't you tell our esteemed leader what's so special about our mission."

"Are you kidding? It's a whole unexplored sector of the galaxy!" she exclaimed, this time managing to not sweep half the people in the room with her HK417 rifle. "The whole area wasn't on the Abydos cartouche or the Repository of Knowledge. We found star maps and gate addresses buried deep in the Atlantis database."

"So, here be monsters?" Shane Morales, an Air Force Major and second in command of the team, asked.

"We don't know what's out there," Simpson agreed. "The Ancients noted that there was primitive sapient life in the sector when they explored it, but we don't know if they're still there or how far they've advanced."

Ahead of them, the gate shut down as the last container was being carted out of the gateroom. "Finally!"

"Logistics transfer completed," a voice informed through their comm systems. "Sierra Golf One-One stand by."

"Copy that, standing by," Nicholson replied automatically.

With a loud grinding sound, the Stargate began to dial. The inner ring rotated to a specific position on computer control, lining up a symbol representing a constellation with the chevron at the top of the ring. It moved down and back up before its immediate neighbour lit up. A familiar voice called from the control room, "Chevron one encoded."

"Any bets on what we're gonna find?" Commander Nicholson asked lightly.

"Chevron two encoded."

Zimmerman answered. "Well, ma'am, it was trees last time, so I figure, maybe a desert."

"Chevron three encoded."

Morales dissented, "I think it's going to be trees again, Commander."

"Chevron four encoded."

"Zero points for originality, Major." Nicholson turned to the scientist of the team. "What about you, Simpson?"

"Chevron five encoded."

"A steampunk civilization that looks like Victorian England," she suggested. "On closer inspection, their steam-powered technology is actually based on reverse-engineered Goa'uld technology. It was discovered-"

"Chevron six encoded."

The Commander nodded. "Wordy, Doctor, but fascinating."

The top chevron moved down and then back up for the final time, locking in the point of origin symbol. The characteristic unstable vortex followed immediately before the event horizon settled into the familiar puddle. "Chevron seven locked."

A small, six-wheeled probe exited its parking spot on the other side of the gateroom and slowly made its way up the ramp. The Mobile Analytical Laboratory Probe always went to an unexplored world first to check for a breathable atmosphere and working DHD. Unlike other machines that incorporated alien technology, the MALP was almost entirely Earth technology. The reasoning was to avoid losing advanced, potentially dangerous technology.

"MALP returning telemetry. Atmosphere is good and so is the terrain," the voice from the control room told them. It was redundant- they could see the data from their suits- but retained out of tradition. "You have a go, Sierra Golf One-One."

Nicholson examined the sensor readouts on her HUD before making a decision. She started moving toward a small, open-framed vehicle parked near the edge of the room. The machine was almost comical, with large tires, no doors, and a machine gun turret at the back. "Looks like we get to use the GEV after all."

"Shotgun!" Dr. Simpson called, hopping into the front of the vehicle.

"Hey!" Zimmerman and Morales exclaimed at the same time.

The AFSOC major objected, "She can't do that, Commander."

Nicholson laughed. "Sure she can. Don't be such a sore loser, Major, you're embarrassing your whole branch." She climbed into the driver's seat. "Zimmerman, you're on guns this time."

"Yes sir." The Marine climbed inside the vehicle and up through the turret ring, giving the mounted M2HB machine gun a quick once-over.

"Uniform Sierra One, final check," Nicholson ordered. It was standard procedure to run a quick diagnostic on their suits and check over their equipment one last time while they still had a chance.

"Simpson, ready."

"Morales, all good."

"Zimmerman, good to go." He racked the charging handle on his machine gun. "Locked and loaded, ma'am."

"Nicholson, checked and cleared." There was one final call to make. "Sierra Golf One-One requests clearance to depart for PR6-308."

"Sierra Golf One-One, you are clear to depart," came the reply. "Good luck out there."

"Thank you." Commander Nicholson pulsed the accelerator pedal, sending them up the ramp, through the wormhole, and across the galaxy.

* * *

 _PR6-308_

"Jesus, I've never seen a place like this before," Major Morales breathed.

Most of the worlds had stargates situated in temperate rainforests or boreal forest, with the occasional desert or tundra planet. This world was unlike anything they had encountered before. The ground was pinkish-grey stone covered in red powder, and the sky was a stormy orange-red. Massive pink crystal spires towered above them, with many more visible in the distance.

"You sure the atmosphere is breathable, doc?" Sergeant Zimmerman asked. He swept his machinegun across the odd landscape, searching for threats.

Dr. Simpson was equally enthralled by the landscape, but replied sarcastically, "Considering our suits haven't switched to internal, I'd say there's a good chance that it is."

"Harsh but habitable?" Morales asked.

She nodded. "Harsh but habitable."

"I don't like this place," Zimmerman repeated.

"Maybe the Goa'uld didn't, either," Commander Nicholson suggested. "What do you think, Doctor?"

"That would make sense," she agreed. "I'm not detecting anything dangerous about this world, but the low gravity and marginal atmosphere, as well as the sheer weirdness, would make it very undesirable for human settlement."

"Just a weird alien planet with not a lot to offer," Nicholson surmised. "Any energy signatures or anything like that?"

"It's possible there could be something deep underground or on the other side of the planet, but I'm not picking up anything in our vicinity."

"And the giant fucking crystals?"

"Selenite, with iron oxide inclusions," she answered. "I'd like to take some samples, but as far as I can tell, there's nothing here that could have created those crystals."

"How the hell is that natural?" Zimmerman asked.

"Sadly, I'm not a geologist, so I don't really have an answer for that," Simpson told him. "I mean, it's possible that these crystals were artificially created."

"Well, let's stop and get some samples then," Nicholson said, turning the vehicle and parking it next to one of the massive spires. It could have been a more exciting mission, but at least the crystals were neat to look at and they weren't going to get into a firefight today. "You like samples, right?"

"Yes!" Dr. Simpson jumped off the GEV before it came to a complete stop, bounding across the dusty surface of the planet toward the nearest crystal. She took out a sample bag and a chisel and began chipping off chunks of the pink crystal.

A red warning suddenly appeared in front of Nicholson's eyes. The sensors in the GEV had picked up an energy signature on the planet, and a very familiar one at that. "Shit. Someone just dialled in. Simpson, pack it up!"

"But I just started!" the scientist complained.

"Check your HUD."

"Unknown contacts?" She scanned the data. "Commander, these could be aliens native to this sector!"

"There's a good chance," Nicholson agreed as he climbed into the vehicle. "Okay, they could be hostile or friendly. Weapons tight, try to be friendly unless they start shooting. Simpson, you're driving this time."

"Got it," she replied, taking the driver's seat.

"And if they start shooting, ma'am?" Morales asked.

"No chances."

Several of the aliens were waiting for them as they approached the stargate. The aliens in question were large and stocky, with rough features and greenish skin. They had four fingers and two toes and wore rough metal armour with gold-trimmed loincloths. They carried gold-headed staffs that appeared to be energy weapons similar to those used as the Goa'uld.

"Trolls?" Morales suggested.

"No, sir, totally Orcs," Zimmerman corrected.

"You both have no idea what you're talking about," Simpson snapped. Nervously, she checked the safety on her rifle.

"Alright, this is a standard first contact. Simpson, park us fifty feet away," Nicholson ordered. "I'll get out and introduce us."

"Good luck, sir,"

Commander Nicholson sighed before jumping out of the vehicle and approaching the aliens. She was totally exposed and he couldn't read the aliens' expressions; they could be curious, angry, or anything in between. Her rifle was still in their vehicle and she approached with his hands raised into the air. Turning up his voice amplifiers, she introduced, "My name is Michaela Nicholson. I'm the leader of SG-11, a team of explorers. We are from a planet called Earth. You may know us already as Terrans or Tau'ri."

The aliens replied by raising their staffs and opening fire.

"Open fire! Punch it!" she ordered as one of the blasts slammed into her shields. She broke into a fast run before firing her jump jets and launching herself awkwardly into the cargo compartment of their now moving GEV.

Dr. Simpson mentioned, "Maybe they misunderstood us-"

"Oh, I'm sure they understood!" the Commander shouted back. She unholstered her sidearm, a Five-Seven USG, and squeezed off a few rounds at the pursuing aliens. "Open fire!"

"Holy fuck!" Sergeant Zimmerman exclaimed. He brought his machinegun around and shredded one of the aliens. They were now far enough away that the staff weapons were nearly useless, but still within the engagement envelope of his M2 machine gun.

"What do we do, wait thirty-eight minutes?" Major Morales asked.

Nicholson considered that for a moment. "No, we don't know what else they're going to bring to the table. Deploy the beacon."

The distress beacon was a recent addition to the SGC's repertoire of equipment. It seemed unassuming from the outside, a grey tube about the size of a rocket launcher marked with various military designations in white paint. The Major grabbed the tube from its position inside the vehicle, aimed it at the side, and twisted the very bottom.

Propelled by a small explosive charge, a streamlined projectile flew out the end of the tube. A hybrid plasma rocket engine at its base ignited a few seconds later, sending the projectile into the sky and to the edge of space. Once it was there, the device began broadcasting a carefully encoded subspace signal in all directions.

* * *

 _USS_ Enterprise

"So, what does the galaxy look like today?" Commander Dustin Garrett asked his sensor officer as he sipped from a mug of strong Navy coffee. The array of displays in front of them illuminated his face in a pale blue.

"Well, the Free Jaffa are still puttering around in the Corbulo Arm," the Lieutenant answered. He pointed out a spot on his display. "The Lucian Alliance is congregating near P9X-451, and this Warpstar is still puttering back and forth in the Verge."

"What about the unknown sector?"

"A whole lot of unknowns, sir. There's- sir, we're picking up a distress beacon!" he exclaimed suddenly.

"Who and where?" the Commander immediately asked, coffee forgotten.

"SG-11... under attack on PR6-308."

The Commander ordered, "Set course for PR6-308 and engage hyperdrive, maximum possible speed. We need to pick up our team before someone else does."

"Course set, aye," the helm replied. "Engaging hyperdrive."

"Sound General Quarters," Commander Garrett ordered next.

"General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands man your battle stations. The flow of traffic is up and forward on the starboard side, down and aft on the port," the XO shouted into the 1MC. "This is not a drill."

All across the ship, crew rushed to their duty stations and donned vacuum/fire gear. Hatches and vents were shut and forcefields raised or readied. The CIC was abuzz with activity as the crew made their ship ready to fight.

"Engineering plant to full standby power."

"Raise shields, transfer power to bypass coupling."

"Charge DEWs, load all guns and make missiles ready in all respects."

"Aspis and Masker in standby mode."

"Sir, I'm detecting what appears to be an observation or communications satellite," the sensor officer reported as they dropped out of hyperspace. "Designate Sierra One. Contact is radiating EM and subspace."

"Take it out?" the XO asked his captain.

"No, we don't know whose satellite it is," Garrett answered. He ordered, "Get our team out of there."

"Sierra Golf One-One transported to cargo bay, awaiting decontamination."

"Begin decontam-"

"Sir, two new contacts dropped out of hyperspace," Sensors reported. "Unknown vessel type, similar in size and energy signature to a Goa'uld Ha'tak. Designate unknown contacts Uniform One, Uniform Two."

Commander Garrett marched over to the sensors station and examined the visual readouts. The new contacts were ornate stepped pyramids similar in style to the satellite. He turned away. "We know whose satellite it is now. TAO, kill Sierra One with DEW."

"Aye, sir, close to optimal range and kill."

The _Enterprise_ accelerated and turned, bringing its powerful Asgard-designed beam weapons to bear. A bright blue beam of energy exploded from an emitter near the bow of the ship, lancing through the satellite and obliterating it in one hit.

"Sir, Uniform One and Uniform Two are powering weapons!" Sensors shouted. "They're launching small "

"Helm, evasive manoeuvres, all ahead flank!" Garrett ordered. He'd been half expecting it. "TAO, batteries released, destroy all hostile targets!"

"All batteries released," the TAO acknowledged. "Open fire on Uniform One and Uniform Two with DEW."

"Masker online, rapid phase jamming active!"

"Aspis in aggressive mode, kill all inbound tracks."

The strange stepped-pyramid ships were no match for the _Enterprise_ , a USN derivative of the DSC-304 class battlecruiser. Energy bolts streaked from the alien ships and pattered uselessly against her Asgard-designed shields. The _Enterprise_ returned fire with energy beams that punched through their shields, ripping massive holes into the stepped pyramids. Small missiles exploded from box launchers and destroyed the enemy fighters before they could even enter their own weapons' range. Railguns and solid-state lasers ripped through the rest.

"Uniform One destroyed, Uniform Two has lost power and is venting atmosphere," the sensor officer replied. "All small hostile craft destroyed."

"Take us back into hyperspace," Commander Garrett ordered. "I've got one hell of a report to write up."

* * *

 _The Pentagon_

"So, we made first contact," General O'Neill said to the US Navy man in front of him. "And you destroyed their ships?"

"They ambushed our team, sir. The _Enterprise_ is a warship," Commander Garrett. "The message we sent is the inevitable result of our standing orders."

"Yeah, I get it." O'Neill sighed. "Who are we dealing with?"

"We believe they call themselves the Tlak'khan, but we cannot confirm that at this time," the Commander replied. "That's based on a few intercepted communications."

"Okay. You scanned their ships, what kind of threat are we talking?"

"Technologically, we believe they're similar to the Goa'uld and in fact may have stolen Goa'uld technology, but we cannot confirm that either," he answered.

"And we have no idea how many of them there are or where they came from," O'Neill finished. "We're going to need to find out."

"Yes, sir," the Commander agreed.

"We have no idea what their numbers look like."

"We need to find out," the General said simply.

"Yes, sir."

"This is gonna be a hell of a mess no matter what," O'Neill remarked wryly. He let out another sigh. "It's not your fault, Commander, you did what you had to do. Your ship has been out there long enough- I'm sending the _Odyssey_ and you can take shore leave or whatever the hell it is you Navy types do."

"Thank you, sir."


End file.
